Would That Make You Happy?

Frisk is your child, the result of a teen pregnancy, but they've always been told that you're their older sister. In an effort to get away from your own abusive mother, the two of you end up falling into the Underground, where Sans is startled by this abrupt change in what had become a predictable pattern of events. Maybe your presence is what is needed to stop the endless cycle of Resets.

After many struggles, both internal and external, you and your found family reach the surface, only to face even more difficulties from the society you weren't sure you'd ever see again. You meet new friends and encounter people from your past, though for good or ill, you're not sure. Sometimes it's difficult to tell kindness from cunning.


100. A Resolution

'I'm sure you can't look at your phone right now because you're busy, but please let me know everything is okay when you can.'

'He's being an ass, but I hope this isn't serious.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Hope I don't care what time it is when you see these, just text me back ok?'

'If you need me I'm at home.'

Deacon is sitting on his couch, one hand fisted in his hair as he scrolls through the texts he sent you half an hour ago. In retrospect it kind of makes him look a little desperate, but he's worried. Are the two of you still fighting? How mad is Sans? He doesn't think that your fiancé would do anything to hurt you but... well he doesn't exactly know the monster that well. It's hard to get to know someone who's keeping you at arm's length all the time.

Oh, not to mention Sans clearly has it out for him.

Not that he's entirely blameless for that. After repeated attempts to endear himself to the skeleton Deacon just stopped trying. What was the point? Sans had made up his mind and there was nothing he could do to change it. But, maybe giving up had been a mistake. Maybe he could have done something so at least you wouldn't end up feeling the brunt of Sans's anger when it should be him.

What is this going to mean for his friendship with you? Is Sans the kind of person that would try to force you into not talking to him? The very thought makes Deacon grimace, hunching forward over his knees. He'd still see you at work every day, he can't just keep you apart. But would you let him? Is that what this is going to come down to; polite conversation and doing your best to ignore him in the halls? The break room?

It makes him feel nauseous. He can't even appreciate the humor of you having some kind of dream about him. Is that what you'd been so weird about yesterday? It must be.

He even knows just how he wants to tease you about it if (when, when) this all blows over. If (shit) you're still talking to him after.

He doesn't know how to handle this. Waiting, hoping that this doesn't end up biting him in the ass. He's never been through anything like this, had a friend he's been afraid of losing. Is there something he should be doing? He... damn it, you mean more to him than he was expecting and he doesn't know how to deal with it.

Deacon thumbs through the texts again, as if staring at them will make you respond. Should he go over there? You're just next door, it's not like— no that's a stupid idea. There's no way that wouldn't just make things worse. But if Sans would just listen

There's a knock on the door and he leaps to his feet, still clutching his phone tight in his hand. It has to be you. Who else would come knock on his door at ten o'clock? Hurrying to answer it, your name is on his lips as he pulls it open.

"Hope— oh."

Sans just raises a brow up at Deacon, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets (he changed out of that ridiculous shirt). The human's expression goes from relieved to disappointed in an instant, and Sans takes in the fact that he's standing there with his phone in his hand. He really was waiting for you to text him back, wasn't he? He's not sure how Deacon's concern for you makes him feel. Annoyed that he seemed to suspect Sans might do something stupid, yet pleased that you have people that care about you. Like everything else where this human is concerned, it's complicated.

"expecting someone else?" Sans drawls, unable to stop himself from making a smartass comment. Huffing a sigh, he looks away and back again.

"Is everything okay?" Deacon asks, looking at his phone. He tugs at the collar of his t-shirt. "Hope never texted me back."

"i know, i asked her not to," Sans says, trying not to enjoy the annoyed look on the human's face. "i was hoping we could talk."

He seems to mull it over for a second before begrudgingly stepping aside to let Sans pass. "Talk. Right, sure," he mutters, closing the door behind him.

Sans glances at the couch but decides against sitting. He doesn't exactly want to be here that long, and there's no way he can get comfortable. That familiar nagging feeling he gets from Deacon is back and he's wondering if this was a good idea. He doesn't want to apologize even though he knows he should. For you dammit, he needs to clear the air and reach some kind of resolution with this— with Deacon.

Deacon sets his phone down on the coffee table and turns to face Sans, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well? This better not be some kind of threat to stay away from Hope, because you can't just boss her around."

Sans grits his teeth. "that's not why i'm here," he mutters, balling his hands into fists.

"Because there's nothing going on. She's a friend, a good friend and I'm not going to jeopardize that by trying to turn our relationship into something it's not," he says and Sans can see the muscles in his arms tensing. "And you can't just blame her for some stupid dream, even I could tell she was worried about it yesterday and I didn't even know what it was about."

"i don't blame her for it. i blame you," Sans says, even as he curses himself for saying it. But it's too late.

"Oh! Fine, blame me! What else is new," Deacon blurts out, throwing his hands into the air.

"well if you didn't keep flirting with her all the time—"

"She knows I'm just playing around. Besides, it has the added bonus of pissing you off," he says, glaring. "You've been looking for a reason to hate me since the moment we met and you know what? I figured I might as well give you one."

"well i hope you're satisfied, because the person who's getting caught in the middle is the one you supposedly care about," he snaps, glaring right back. "i don't give a shit if you don't like me, but i'm trying to make amends for her. i didn't fucking come here to fight with you deacon."

With a frustrated huff, the human shifts uncomfortably on his feet. The two of them stare each other down in silence before Deacon speaks again. "I never meant to cause trouble for Hope. I was just pissed off at you for being an asshole."

"right back at you, pal."

"Then why are you here? Do you really think I wanted something bad to happen at the festival?" he asks, uncrossing his arms and letting them hang at his sides.

He doesn't want to say it. But he has to. Pulling his hand out of his pocket to drag his fingers across his forehead, Sans looks down at the floor. "i came here to apologize. for blaming you for what happened. for being a jerk. today was shit and i took it out on you and then i almost took it out on hope and it's not fair to either of you. and as much as it pisses me off, you haven't done anything to deserve my suspicion or anger." He runs his hand down his face and forces himself to look at Deacon. The human's expression is unreadable. "so i'm sorry. i don't want things to keep being ugly between us."

For a moment Sans thinks that Deacon is going to shove his apology back in his face. To reject this attempt at reconciliation. But before he can do more than feel his frustration start to build, the human holds out his hand to him. Sans stares at it and then meets Deacon's eyes. He's not smiling, but... he just looks sort of relieved. Like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Sans feels it too. He shakes Deacon's hand, ignoring the sudden twinge of agitation as they make contact.

"Thanks, Sans. And, well, I guess I'm sorry too. For making this harder for both of us. No, for all three of us," Deacon says, letting go of his hand. Both of them immediately shove their hands in their pockets —Sans into his jacket, Deacon into his sweatpants.

"good. fine," he says, nodding a little and willing himself to relax. This might not have started off as well as it could have but... he apologized. He did what he came here to do. Sans glances at the front door, wondering if he should just go. He really wants to get back home to you, doesn't like the thought of leaving you alone right now after everything that happened. Besides, there's something he's been meaning to do.

"So everything is okay with you and Hope? Did she ask you to come over here?" He sounds a little uncomfortable, but concerned. Sans can't even feel annoyed that he's being nosy.

"yeah. we're ok. it's just been a hell of a month," he says with a shrug. "and no. she didn't ask me to come over here."

Deacon seems to understand the implication, but doesn't say anything. Though it looks like he wants to. "Cool," he says, reaching up to rub his neck. "So, where does this leave us, then? I care about Hope, as her friend, and for her sake I want us to... I dunno, be okay with each other?"

"yeah. that's what i want too," he says a little begrudgingly. He gives Deacon a forced smile. "i can respect that you're friends with her, because her happiness is important to me. we may not like each other, but we've got one thing in common. hope."

"Yeah. Exactly. So we put our differences aside, understand each other a little better, and just move forward. I can do that," Deacon says, giving Sans a fleeting smile in return. As it fades he looks away, running his hand through his hair. "Well, okay, this is just awkward now, so uh, unless there's anything else you want to say..."

"no. i should get home," Sans says, more than happy to seize the opportunity.

"Yeah. Definitely. Uh, let Hope know I'm glad everything is okay. Or, you know what, I'll just text her. It's fine. Forget it. You go." Deacon clears his throat, glancing over at his phone.

"ok. yeah. bye."


Deacon goes to head towards the front door but Sans doesn't bother. He just teleports back home.

You're laying on your bed, right in the center on top of the covers. Your pillow is bunched up under your chest, arms wrapped around it as you fiddle with your phone while you wait. Sans has already been gone for a little while and you're not sure how long he's going to be. But you can't relax, not until he's back home.

You tried to fill the time while he was gone with getting ready for bed. But washing makeup off your face and changing into a baggy nightshirt didn't take up that much time. So now you're trying (and failing) to not check the different news sites. As far as you can tell, none of them have run a story. You doubt that you're going to be that lucky, though.

Kicking your bare legs back and forth, you try to focus on the feeling of your calves brushing against one another to distract yourself. It helps to keep your mind from wandering too much. There's no point in trying to dwell on what might happen, right? It's not like you can do anything about it now.

Your phone buzzes and chimes in your hands and you jump, heart leaping into your throat before you chastise yourself. Pull it together, it was just a text message. Pulling up the notification, you're surprised to see it's from Deacon.

'Glad everything is okay with you guys. I was worried. Talk more later. Have a good night.'

You're about to type in a reply when you hear Sans's voice downstairs. "I'm up here!" you call out, turning off your phone's screen and looking at the door.

He's in the doorway a second later, appearing out of thin air. He left his jacket downstairs, which is a good sign at least. Between Deacon's text and the neutral expression on Sans's face, you think things must have gone okay. You sit up as he walks to the bed, standing at the foot but not climbing up next to you. Instead you go to him, crawling over and sitting back on your heels.

"How did it go?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him towards you.

He comes to you willingly, nuzzling the side of your face and leaving little nipping kisses along your cheek. His hands, instead of hugging you back, go to your bare thighs. Warm, smooth fingers give you an appreciative squeeze as he lets out a soft sigh. "good. fine. we talked for a bit, came to a mutual understanding," he says, sounding distracted.

"And what understanding was that?" you ask, pulling back so you can meet his eyes. He makes a small sound of protest and tries to follow you but you lean back on your hands, far enough away that he can't reach you.

Sighing, he raises a brow and squeezes your legs again. "that neither of us were exactly on our best behavior. and that, for you, we'd do better and put this shit behind us."

"I take it you still don't like him? I mean, I don't expect you to, but..."

"it'll be fine babe. don't worry about it," he murmurs, leaning over you to grab your wrists and pull you back up to meet him. "he... i believe him when he says he cares about you, as a friend. and that should be good enough for me."

You wrap your arms around his ribcage, resting your head against his sternum. He runs his fingers through your hair as he nuzzles the top of your head. "Thank you for doing that. It means a lot to me, Sans."

"i know. i love you."

"I love you too. Do you feel better at least? Now that you've gotten all that off your chest?"

"a bit, yeah." He sighs a little and hugs you closer, then makes a startled sound. "oh. shit, i almost—"

He pulls away from you and you give him a bewildered look, surprised to find yourself no longer in his arms. Sans opens his mouth, then closes it again, looking over at his dresser and back to you. He seems torn about something. "Sans?" you ask, confused.

"i was gonna..." He trails off, rubbing his jaw. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he walks over to the dresser and opens one of the drawers. He pulls something out and, keeping it hidden behind his hands, comes back over to you. "i imagined tonight going a lot better than it did, but what the hell. i don't wanna wait any longer. i'm just sorry that instead of this being the last good thing to top off a good day, it's more like the only good thing on a shitty day."

You touch his hands, smiling as a thrill of anticipation coils in your chest. "Did you...?"

Sans lifts one of his hands away, and in the palm of the other is a small black box. He holds it out for you, nodding as you reach for it but hesitate. "i sat down with alphys to sort out the design. she does lots of work with figures and stuff, so i figured she'd have a good idea of colors and—"

"Sans, shh."

"—and she's good at fabricating metal parts, so i knew she could make it and—"

"Sans," you blurt out, laughing and giving him a playful glare.


He watches you expectantly, and now that you're sure he's not going to interrupt you open the box. Inside is a ring. The band is a silver-colored metal, white gold maybe, studded with tiny round diamonds. The center stone is shaped like a heart, but he has it turned upside-down. No, not upside-down, just turned like a monster Soul. On either side of the diamond are two triangular stones the same bright blue as his magic.

"what do you think?" he asks quietly.

"It's perfect," you say, looking up at him again. There's tears in your eyes but they're happy tears this time and a laugh bubbles up from inside your chest. "Sans it's beautiful."

He takes the box from your hands and pulls the ring out, setting the box aside. You hold out your hand and he slips it on your finger. It fits perfectly. "you've already got me wrapped around your finger, but now everyone else can know it too," he says, grinning. The lights in his eyes are bright as he searches your face, relieved. "i know this doesn't make up for what happened, but—"

You silence him with a kiss to his mouth, wrapping him up in your arms and pulling him close. He tilts to rest his forehead against yours, cradling your head in his hands and burying his fingers in your hair. He's so close he's blurred in your vision, the lights of his eyes multiplied into a field of bright points like stars.

"i know that traditionally, guys don't wear rings until the wedding, but i thought, since..." He trails off, but you know what he means. That you don't have any idea when you might be able to legally marry. "well, alphys made mine already."

He pulls away from you and picks the box back up, pulling out the little insert that held yours in place. Underneath is another ring. It's made of the same silver metal as yours, surrounding a thick band of smooth, polished wood. Picking it up, you turn it to find a silver heart fitted flush into the wood part of the band, inlaid with a dark ruby.

"the wood is from some of the leftover from when they built the house. it's from one of the trees that used to be here," he says, brushing your hands with his left one. "and alphys put rubber on the inside so it won't slide off my hand. if you want, we don't have to wait until—"

You take his hand and slide the ring onto his finger, admiring it for a second. Then you cover his hand with yours, setting your rings side by side. Tapping the little ruby on his band, you smile at him. "My Soul is yours, and yours is mine."

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